Child of smoke

Prologue

'Hold on tighter mistress" whiteplume, a whitewings swan beat his wings hard against the winds that blew and swirled around them in a sea of bitter cold.
Lying on his feathery back was a squirrel, thin and starved-looking. But she was a squirrel like no other for her fur was brown as pure pine wood and her foot paws were black. A cape billowed out behind her, acting like a mad thing as the gale tormented and tortured the two weakened creatures.
The dark squirrel was named Elka and only hours before she had been a resident of whitewings... But now she was forced to flee for her life.
Elka clutched tighter to the swan's feathers yet her grip loosened gradually as her energy sapped with every drop of blood that seeped from a gash in her arm.
Delirious and fainting from pain, the young squirrel placed one paw over her wound, wavering as the Crimson blossomed upon her fur.
Whiteplume flew on, sight obscured by the mists that shrouded mistmantle. White silks and heavy snow passed by in a swirl of foggy haze, as if rebuking the two travellers from making it this far into the unknown mists.
"Not long now" came the swan's consoling words yet Elka hardly heard, trembling fitfully in her agonising pain, eyes half closed and breathing shallow, the young squirrel was beyond hearing anything except for the still silence of shock.
There, emerging from the mists were two twin towers. Whiteplume gave a hearty flap of his magnificent wings.
Through pain ridden eyes, the young squirrel could make out the hazy outlines.
Mistmantle!